Empire of Shadows
by silverglitters
Summary: They said it was better to know your enemy, but how did it help to know that your enemy's one weakness was your weakness, too?
1. 1

**AN: **This kinda feels like I'm betraying my first story, but the idea just won't leave me alone. The plot is just too delicious, I had to bite.

Well, if anyone even reads this, I hope you guys have fun :)

**Empire of Shadows**

* * *

**01**

* * *

The night was clear, and perhaps, more than a little warm, unlike what his astrologists had predicted. It was quiet now; a moment ago, it had been fresh with anguished screams, but those had long since been quieted, if not by the blade of a sword, then most certainly by the fire that was now crackling happily, its glow bathing the darkness with eerie light.

It had once been a village, but all it would be in the morning is the remains of ashes and blood, and perhaps one corpse, or two, that the fire had forgotten to devour.

In the middle of it all, stood a man with hair that resembled blue midnight and glittering amethyst eyes that caught the light of the fire and almost seemed to be sparkling. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword that was embedded into the chest of who had once been the chief of this village.

He had been quite the character, the chief, a two-faced bastard that had courage and wit in all the wrong places. Just moments after he had realized that he had made an irreversible mistake, he had thrown himself at the ground, prostrated himself and did the things he should have done from the very beginning, but neglected.

"_Mercy! Mercy, please!"_ And he had clutched the man's leg almost desperately, knowing it was the only way to save his, and the rest of the villagers' pitiful lives. _"Spare us, Yukimura-sama!"_

Yukimura had only smiled. It had been a gentle smile, one he used when he had to deal with brainless idiots. _"Ara? You ask for mercy, and prostrate yourself before me, but plot a rebellion behind my back? Do you _think_ you deserve my mercy?"_

Yukimura didn't think so, but then again, only one person deserved what compassion was left in his heart. And it was not the chief.

So Yukimura, because he _was_ compassionate in a way, spared the chief long enough so he could watch each and every one of his villagers die. Yukimura had even let him live long enough to hear his family's last breaths.

And then, the chief himself lost his life.

_Pity_, Yukimura thought, but then again, he had long since stopped minding the stupidity of all others around him. He surveyed his hands, as the fire crackled happily around him. They were bloodstained, and blood was still dripping steadily from his fingertips. He could feel the smear of blood on his cheek, as well, and perhaps there was even some staining his clothes.

He frowned as he picked at his silk shirt delicately. He didn't particularly like the shirt, but now that it was disgusting, he would have to throw it away. Or burn it. So in one night, he had lost a village, about a hundred or so people, and a silk shirt.

He plunged his sword a little deeper, though the satisfaction did not come, because there was no answering whimper. Annoyed, he left his sword where it was, and stalked towards the outskirts of the village, where few of his men would be waiting.

He caught a glimpse of the plantation the village tended, and felt himself sigh once again. So he'd lost a week's supply of corn, as well. And that was too bad, because he happened to like corn. He could feel a headache coming on, but no one ever said running an empire would be easy.

There was an undercurrent of fear in his troops when he smiled at them, more pronounced now than before, but they remained in formation, and parted respectfully when he passed. He unbuttoned his coat as he approached his carriage, because it just wouldn't do to lose a carriage, too, especially if it was a carriage he had liked.

He paused and narrowed his eyes when he found another one idling beside his, and his sharp gaze focused on the head of the guard.

"Who was inside this carriage?" he demanded angrily, pointing an imperious finger at it.

"B.. beg pardon, Yu.. Yukimura-sama, but..."

"I asked you a _question_. Spare me your excuses."

"Fuji." It was Sanada who answered. Sanada, who was towering over him, riding a dark horse that looked as if it had been pushed too far. He was bare-headed, and looked almost as if he had thrown his clothes on in haste, but his breathing was even.

Yukimura did not stay to ask.

Instead, he walked slowly back to the village entrance, where he found a slight figure shivering in his nightclothes. The figure did not turn at the sound of his approach, and Yukimura took time to admire how the light lent his hair a fiery hue. It was a beautiful color.

"Syusuke," he called, as gently as he was capable, and the figure turned, so that Yukimura could see his trembling blue gaze. But despite the trembling, he met Yukimura's eyes steadily.

"Seiichi," he greeted, voice breathless with something Yukimura couldn't quite place. Fear, maybe? But that was impossible. Yukimura had given Syusuke very little reason to fear him.

Almost at the same time, Sanada caught up to him, voicing out a, "Seiichi," warningly. His rough voice drowned out the bell-like quality of Syusuke's, and the corner of Yukimura's lips turned down slighty with displeasure.

Yukimura reached out and wiped his bloodstained hands on Sanada's coat. The action removed very little, because the blood had already dried on his hands, and though Yukimura had no desire to touch Syusuke bloodstained, it would have to do.

He closed the distance, and cupped the clammy cheeks. At this rate, Syusuke might wake up tomorrow with a cold, and perhaps that couldn't be helped anymore. "Does this trouble you?" he asked, whispering against the shell of his ear, feeling Syusuke shiver once again, but this time, for a completely different reason.

Syusuke's hand reached out to clutch at his shirt, tighter and tigher until the fabric tore. He exhaled, and it almost seemed like the tension wracking his body was expelled along with the air he breathed out. When Syusuke looked up, his eyes were shut and he was smiling.

It was not a convincing smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

"Not as much as it should," Syusuke replied, still with the same breathless voice. And, almost as an afterthought, he added, "Anymore."

"Don't worry," he said in an enticing voice, his other hand drifting down to wrap around Syusuke's throat. Where his hand passed, traces of blood remained, and he gazed at it distastefully. It would have to be washed away. "I'll be here. I always will, until you forget how much this vision disturbs you." His other hand traced the familiar contours of skin, trailing blood on the otherwise unmarred face. "You won't have to be made to remember."

And his fingers pressed on the carotid arteries on either side of Syusuke's throat. Syusuke gasped once, before he fell limp on Yukimura's arms. It was not a method Yukimura liked, it was too risky for his tastes, but he had no other choice. Too much of this would only hurt Syusuke even more, considering what he was, and what he did for Yukimura. Yukimura passed his body to Sanada gently and turned to the other new addition to the party he'd brought tonight.

This person's eyes were blue, as well, though they were a distasteful color, and contrasted awfully with his red hair. He was trembling, his face pale and pinched with fear. Yukimura smiled, liking the way even his fingers shook. It was sad, because Yukimura had thought he had pounded manners into this wretch, and had trusted him enough with _Syusuke_, of all people, but it seems he was sorely mistaken.

"What did I tell you," he asked silkily, advancing on the servant like a lion observing its prey. "About what to do with Syusuke tonight?"

His eyes tightened, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "My... my... Fuji-sama... He asked for... asked to see His Majesty so I thought-"

The slap echoed loudly against the quiet of his ranks. Yukimura made sure to strike with enough force to send the creature to the ground, where, in Yukimura's opinion, he belonged. Yukimura watched as he curled to his side, clutching his cheek. "So you thought you would disobey my orders?" He reveled in the servant's cries until he lay face-up to see Yukimura leer at him. "Maa, Kikumaru-kun, I wonder who your emperor is."

When Kikumaru failed to answer, Yukimura struck him again. "I _asked_ a question."

"Y-you, Yukimura-sama!" Kikumaru cried between whimpers.

"That's right," Yukimura agreed, fiercely. "So I expect you to be smart enough to know _my orders_ take precedence over anyone else's. _Do you understand?_"

"Yes!"

It was a broken, plaintive cry, one that Yukimura would have treasured any other time. He was too furious to treasure it now, so he crouched down and pinned the blue eyes with his own hard gaze. "You are lucky that Syusuke would become upset if I beat you, or I would have lashed you within an inch of your pitiful life." He grabbed the childish chin, digging his fingernails in until he felt fresh blood trickling down his fingers. "As it is, you're not to have food within the week."

He watched the eyes widen tremendously, before he let go, and motioned for Syusuke to be passed back to him.

"I'll have him ride with me," he informed Sanada quietly. His gaze drifted into the uneasy ranks of soldiers he had brought with him and realized he trusted none of them. He jerked his head towards them. "Be rid of them for me, won't you?"

Sanada looked as if he might protest, but nodded his head and promised to have a fresh batch replace them in the morning.

As the carriage moved forwards, Yukimura smiled, chidishly playing with Syusuke's hair on his lap, straining his ears to hear the screams that had once again filled the night.

* * *

There were a million and one other kingdoms Tezuka Kunimitsu could have allied with, but if his kingdom was to survive a war against the Yukimura Empire, then he would not have any better choice apart from the neighboring Atobe Kingdom.

Or that was what he had told its arrogant king. Tezuka was many things, and he could become many more to protect his kingdom. Even if he had to lie through his teeth so he could smoothen negotiations with them.

The truth was, of course, less glamorous than the lie made it up to be. It was a simple combination of facts that had led the king of a kingdom teetering dangerously close to the edge of a precipice to this decision.

Even as they spoke, the Yukimura Empire was expanding, and growing threateningly close to Tezuka's own country, threatening his people and his sovereign. And though Tezuka had confidence in his army, a third of the empire itself was almost ten times the size of Tezuka's own small kingdom, and where the empire's ruler was ruthless, Tezuka valued honor, amongst many other better things.

Whatever the reason, it would all fall down to the fact that Tezuka would be hard-pressed to fight a great empire without having to worry about the other kingdoms taking advantage and trying to take over, as well. It was for this (and various other reasons, the greatest one being his kingdom was too small to handle a war against the _Empire_) that Tezuka had spent the past few weeks drawing up several treaties and allying himself with most all the nearby kingdoms in the looming fight against a sovereign that spanned half the map.

The only neighboring kingdom left had been Atobe's, and it was the most fearful kingdom among them all, for its size and military capabilities rivalled the Empire's, or at the very least, posed a threat to it, so much so, that its Emperor had left it untouched where he had conquered many other kingdoms around it.

If there was one thing any King knew for sure about the sole Emperor on their lands, it was that he enjoyed toppling great monarchies, treating warrior-proven kings like his own little playthings. There must be a reason why he neglected the Atobe Kingdom for so long, and it could be either that he was the slightest bit threatened by the danger declaring war to that kingdom posed, or that he was making it climb higher, so its fall would be even more painful.

And the King had to be aware of that, but here he was sitting arrogant, preening like a peacock in Tezuka's sitting room, uncowed by the threat. If anything, Tezuka had to admire his courage.

"And ore-sama is expected to believe you, then?" Atobe Keigo was regal, even as he sat in a not-so-regal plush armchair, his hands steepled together on his lap. "Ore-sama has _ears_, Tezuka..." He paused, almost as if contemplating something, bringing his fingers up to his forehead, levelling Tezuka with an assessing gaze. Tezuka stared straight back.

"..._san_." Atobe finished with a mockery of a smile. "And ore-sama knows you have been allying yourself to many other kingdoms opposite my border." He brought his hand down, but his calculative stare remained. "Are you going to stab me behind my back?"

"For what purpose?" Tezuka asked, raising an eyebrow, reaching out to take the teacup that had been served there almost a half hour ago. It was Earl Grey, but it was cold now, and he winced. "So I could weaken my people even more and present both our kingdoms to the Yukimura Empire on a silver platter?"

Atobe's smile, this time, was a completely amused one. "So that's what it is about then," he drawled, sounding as if he was an edge off of laughing. "You want to make sure ore-sama doesn't invade your kingdom while you're busy with the _Empire_."

He spoke the word with distaste, scowling where a few moments ago, he was in good humour. "Very well, Tezuka-san, ore-sama will tell you now that he has no desire to take over the reins of your pitiful kingdom, and if ore-sama _did_," he paused again, giving Tezuka a hard, severe gaze. "He would not do it hiding behind some repulsive excuse for an empire.

"Do _not_ take ore-sama for a coward."

Tezuka wanted pinch the bridge of his nose, because he could feel a headache coming on. He also wanted to stand up, put both hands on either shoulder, and shake some sense into the arrogant brat, because even though that had been part of the reasoning why Tezuka wanted to ally himself with the Atobe Kingdom, that was not the _point_.

"If I thought you to be a coward, you would not be sitting here in my room, negotiating with me." Tezuka stood up and walked towards the windows. The night sky was clear, and the moon lent a calming glow upon the kingdom. It was quiet now, and Tezuka tried not to think how many other kingdoms had spent their last night free of the Empire in this manner. It was a deceitful peace, one that had been the cause of many a kingdom's fall. "I would hardly ally myself with cowards when I fight against a militia as great as the empire's. That is only asking for failure."

He looked back, and watched the other king take on that pose once again. Around the room, soldiers of their choosing shifted uneasily, and one in particular, one with cocky golden eyes whose cockiness could be overlooked because of his skill, looked very closed to tapping his foot against the floor to make aware of his boredom.

"I have no such desire."

"Then, you want ore-sama's kingdom to ally with yours because we have one common enemy." Atobe's tone was laced, once again, with amusement.

"It would be to both our military advantages. I hardly need to remind you of this, Atobe-san, but if I and my allies fall, then your kingdom would be no more of a threat to the empire then than mine is now." Tezuka gauged Atobe's reaction to that. As far as he knew, the other King had always prided himself with his kingdom's power, and saying such things could potentialy be harmful for the negotiations. If he burned this bridge...

Suffice to say, it was too big a bridge than Tezuka could afford to burn.

But Atobe kept his smile, as he leaned back on the chair. "And if we fight together, perhaps we might even harness a chance at winning." He said it laughingly, but he held the actual laughter back.

"Perhaps," Tezuka agreed.

This time, Atobe did laugh. He threw his head back, and the rich sound filled the entire room. Several of Tezuka's guards, and even a few of Atobe's own shifted uneasily. "Or," he said, between chuckles. "We 'offer both our kingdoms to the empire in a silver platter.'"

Tezuka assessed the laughing form calmly. He was adept at reading people, but there were some, such as the likes of Atobe Keigo, who refused to be read. It irked Tezuka somehow, but he did not show it in his face.

Atobe was still laughing. "You are amusing," he said, when he finally regained his breath. He smirked at Tezuka and stood as well. "You are amusing, but ore-sama likes the way you think."

He walked, casually, the distance between him and Tezuka, but Tezuka made no move whatsoever to acknowledge it.

"Fine, then, Tezuka, I'll ally myself with you," Atobe declared, smirking.

"Atobe-" one of Atobe's people protested. From the looks of him, he was not a soldier, more built to be a scholar of a sort, or perhaps a politician.

Atobe threw him a look.

The man only shrugged. It was clear that, from the easy, almost lazy way he did it, that he knew his King, probably better than any other soldier Atobe had brought here. "They are a small kingdom. Just thought you might want to know."

"I am not an idiot, Oshitari," Atobe hissed, low enough for Tezuka to barely catch it. "Besides, they are full of... _interesting _people."

Atobe looked at him when he said it, and it made Tezuka uneasy, for the other king said it like he was examing a particularly good specimen, or perhaps commenting on the tasteful furnishing of a house thoroughly beyond him, but that caught his attention anyway.

"That one, for example," Atobe was pointing at one of Tezuka's guards, and Tezuka turned his head to see. "Has the eyes of the warrior-king that had shocked the world."

Atobe's gaze turned back to him. "Well, is he, Tezuka?" He pointed again. "Samurai Nanjiroh's son?"

He watched Echizen narrow his eyes angrily, but Tezuka threw him a hard glance to tell him to keep quiet.

"I don't think I am at liberty to discuss the personal lives of my people to you," Tezuka answered. "That is now how this alliance will work."

Atobe surveyed him once again, long and hard, and for a moment, Tezuka might have thought he will withdraw his support. But he just turned on his heel and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine, keep your secrets."

The underlying, _"I'll find the answer for myself soon enough,"_ obvious in the air.

They left in the same procession they had come, and the last of them, the one who had spoken, whom Atobe had called Oshitari, turned to him.

"You may send as a copy of the treaty you have drafted tomorrow," he said, making it all sound like it was an afterthought. "We shall send it back once it has been reviewed, along with the date when it is favorable for signing."

And then he, too, left, the door closing after him with a satisfying click.

* * *

When Fuji woke up, he spent a fair amount of time looking at the ceiling. Rather, the deep blue canopy of his bed. The curtains were not drawn so he could only see precious little from the flimsy material of the cloth. Seiichi must have put him to bed last night, Eiji knew he liked to wake up and actually see his room.

Another village, again. It was a small one this time, but it had not always been the case. And with Seiichi attacking villages just on the suspicion that they were rebelling...

Fuji's fingers curled in on his palm until they were shaking fists. He did not want this. Many years ago, when they made that promise, he never thought it through so much as to predict this. And in the years advancing onward from then, he had thought that maybe, once Seiichi has finally taken what he had wanted of the land, maybe they could all settle down, have peace and be happy again.

He just wanted them to be happy.

Was that even too much to ask?

He thought... what they did... he thought they could be happy because of it.

"Fuji-sama?" a timid familiar voice called, interrupting him from his thoughts. The curtains covering the windows parted, and a moment later, so did the curtains around his bed. He blinked rapidly, trying to get used to the morning light.

"Eiji?" he responded in kind, still not moving from his spot on the bed.

"I'm glad you are awake, Fuji-sama." And Fuji turned his head to watch Eiji tying a ribbon to hold the curtains together. There was something different about him today, but Fuji could not place his finger on it. "I've drawn your bath already, so we'd better get you in it while the water is still warm."

"Eiji, what happened to Fujiko?"

Eiji stiffened at his question, and did not meet his gaze when he reached to pull down the covers. "Please, Fuji-sama, it is better this way," he begged, in a voice that made Fuji want to cry.

Once upon a time, Eiji had been a cheerful ball of energy, he had been Fuji's friend, and, by association, Seiichi's friend, too, because during that time it didn't matter that Eiji was the son of their cook and all that mattered was that Eiji was a boy their age, and that he knew the best hiding places in the manor, as well as the best places to look for sweets. But that had been long ago, and Seiichi had beaten that cheer out of Eiji the way he had beaten many other things out of many other people.

And he hated that he now had to order Eiji to treat him as he did when it did not matter that they were friends. "Call me what you want to call me, Eiji. I do not care."

"I cannot." It was a whisper, and Fuji knew it was the only answer he would get. He wondered if it was the same answer he would get, if he asked Eiji what had happened last night.

He let Eiji lead him to the screen where Eiji began to gently take off his clothes.

"Fuji-sama's necklace?" The question was rote, but Eiji asked him anyway. Just yesterday, Eiji had playfully punched him, and pouted, because apparently, necklaces weren't meant to soak in the tub. Now, he was back to this.

"I'm okay, Eiji," he said, clutching at the chain even as he lowered himself at the tub. The chain was Yuuta's, and Seiichi had given him the ring to wear as a replacement for a pendant. It had been a family heirloom, passed down from one king to the next, but Seiichi had given it to him, that night, and had smiled the last angelic smile that he had ever worn.

"_So you know for sure,"_ he had said, and Fuji had never doubted. Perhaps he should start.

He traced the evidence of what had transpired in that night now, the rune that Seiichi had carved into his skin. It had hurt, that night, and it had hurt even more when the salty tears had leaked into it, but he had held the hilt of the blade firmly with Seiichi, and told him he was okay, that he should keep going, because they needed to do it, so they could accomplish their dreams.

Maybe... Maybe he shouldn't have. But he had been a child, and he had loved Seiichi too much to not believe in him, and his conviction.

His hand brushed against the ring, once again, and he brought it up to his gaze to observe it.

"_So you know for sure,"_ it once told him, but now, it seemed that all it was ever doing was laugh at him.

He didn't know, not for sure, not anymore. And every day, he just kept getting more and more scared that one day, he just _won't know_ anymore, and Seiichi would be lost, and would become nothing more than a stranger.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and Eiji, who had been helping him dress, moved in his field of vision and asked if he had tied anything too tight.

And just when he did, Fuji spotted the bruises on his jaw.

He reached a hand up to touch it. "Eiji, where did you get this?" He could feel Eiji trembling, as he tilted his friend's chin up to see the bruise. He had a sneaking suspicion this bruise came from-

"It's nothing, Fuji-sama," Eiji answered, tearing away from his grip. "I... I was careless, forgive me."

The bruises were so familiar. He'd nursed plenty of those after nights spent in Seiichi's bed. Bruises from Seiichi's nails where he scratched too hard. And suddenly, it all made sense. Why Eiji had gone back to a way of addressing Fuji that he knew Fuji hated, why he was so distant, why...

Oh, god, was this _his_ fault? Because he'd insisted to see Seiichi, because he'd taken a carriage and demanded that Eiji take him there? He should have known, he _should have_ known! How could he be so _stupid_ as to believe that Seiichi would see the friend he no longer saw?

"Seiichi," he whispered, and had his confirmation when Eiji's eyes widened. Eiji had never been a good liar.

"What else?" he whispered fiercely, feeling his body shaking with horror. "What else did I make him do to you?"

"Fuji-sama, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" He could feel the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. "What _else_, Eiji?"

Eiji looked torn, as he watched Fuji hyperventilate, face twisted in horror. "I..."

And there was a knock from the door.

"Fuji-sama, if you are ready, His Majesty would like for you to join him for breakfast."

Fuji was shaking. He wasn't ready, he didn't want breakfast, and he, most emphatically, did not want to eat breakfast with _Seiichi_. He'd probably just see Eiji's bruises and all he'd be thinking is how Seiichi did it, and how it was _his_ fault that he did.

But Eiji was steering him towards the door, murmuring things like how he was okay, and how the bruises would heal, and how he looked like he needed some food in his system. Of course he needed food in his system, his stomach was looking for something it could throw up.

But he was not led to the dining hall, and was instead brought to Seiichi's study. He recognized the door, he waited outside it often enough.

And when the door flew open, and Seiichi smiled gently at him, Fuji found the turmoil in his soul easing.

Because Seiichi did not look like a sadistic murderer who beat people for his own pleasure at all.

"Good morning," Seiichi greeted, escorting Fuji inside. The room was a mess, but Seiichi didn't seem to see it. He was too busy leading Fuji to the only place that had been kept neat. "You seem... different, are you ill?"

Fuji could see Sanada-san waiting in the shadows, the only person in the room apart from them. He gave Fuji a quick nod, which Fuji responded to with a tentative smile.

"I... I'm fine," Fuji lied, diverting his smile to Seiichi. "But I don't suppose I could stomach breakfast."

"Good," Seiichi replied, snaking his arms around Fuji's waist, making him shiver. "Neither could I."

He felt the cold hands grasp his cheek, and he looked down to see a map spread out across the table. The Empire spanned almost half of it, colored in midnight blue, the same hue as Seiichi's hair. At the northeastern border, colored in ghastly red that reminded Fuji very much of blood, were a few kingdoms, that Fuji could have sworn stood separately until today.

"Yesterday, _that_ kingdom," Seiichi said, his voice more amused than anything. "Joined with _King_ Tezuka's growing alliance." He said the name mockingly, knowing, even before they attacked that no matter how big the alliance got, they will never become a threat. "Oh my, what should I do?"

His hands crept downwards, caressing Fuji's thighs, and yet, all Fuji could see was the bruises on Eiji's chin and how badly Seiichi must have treated his friend because of him.

"You beat Eiji last night," Fuji said, phrasing it as a statement, not a question.

The fingers curled around him tighter. "Would you like me to?" Seiichi asked. "I restrained last night, but if you are amenable..."

"You... _didn't_, last night?"

"You would hate me, if I did." One hand rose up to clutch the ring he had given Fuji. "I can't have you hate me." His tone was plaintive, and anguished, a tone that made Fuji want to turn and ask to be forgiven for his doubt.

"_So you know for sure."_

Fuji pressed back into the embrace. "I don't hate you."

At the corner of his eyes, he saw Seiichi gesture at the map again, the size of the Empire, and the measly size of the growing alliance. "They will attack us, if we are not careful, so tell me," Seiichi breathed, still plaintive, and pleading. "Tell me what I could do that won't make you hate me."

But Seiichi had it wrong. Fuji could never hate him. Fuji could be scared of what he's becoming, Fuji could be afraid of losing the Seiichi he knew, but Fuji could never hate him. No matter what Seiichi did, or would do, even if he attacked and took over the kingdom Fuji had wished he'd never notice, even if he killed the person Fuji had hoped he'd never touch... He could never hate Seiichi.

And with him acting like this, telling Fuji he still cared... Even though it did nothing to erase Fuji's fear, it eased it somewhat, because somehow, at least Seiichi could still have a little bit of the Seiichi he was before that night happened and they lost what had been left of both their worlds.

He suddenly felt very tired. "Do what you want, Seiichi," he replied. _You always do_.

And when Seiichi turned him around and pressed his lips against his, Syusuke knew he had given the right answer.

* * *

Okay, so I know that Yukimura (and Fuji, a little) is so super OOC, but there is a reason for that ;) Yes, my unfaithful-to-my-first-story self actually spent like a whole day writing out character sketches and planning out the plot. I can't help it, it really won't leave me alone :'(

So, um. Would you guys be really nice and tell me what you think? -hopeful smile-

/silverglitters


	2. 2

**AN:** Hi :)

* * *

**02**

* * *

The floor was hard, and the edge of the curled claw of the table legs dug into his back. There were fresh scratches in his body, and his back felt sore. He suspected he might be limping until the end of next week, but it might be just him. His clothes were half-on, half-off and he supposed Seiichi just couldn't be bothered to fix him up before he had to tend to business.

His attention was drawn to movement at the corner of his eye, and he lifted his head to see Sanada-san shifting uncomfortably.

"I've been told to see to you, if you have problems," he said, crouching down to help Fuji into a sitting position. Fuji yelped and gingerly tried to look for a position to sit down with minimal discomfort.

Fuji had many problems, but he doubted Sanada-san could fix them, not if Sanada-san had his own problems he cannot solve.

Sanada-san did not meet his gaze as he buttoned Fuji's shirt for him, and though he knew he had no right to, he reached out until his hand brushed Sanada-san's shoulder. When Sanada-san tensed, he removed his hand.

"Forgive me, Sanada-san," he whispered, his voice scratchy. "I am so sorry."

Because Sanada-san had long loved Seiichi, and he had to stay and watch as Seiichi had his way with Fuji and take care of Fuji afterwards. And Sanada-san could stand it, Sanada-san supported Seiichi where Fuji could not, because of Fuji's limitations, and Sanada-san never doubted Seiichi like Syusuke did.

Sanada-san loved Seiichi _so much_. And Seiichi did not even _see_ him.

"For what?" Sanada-san's voice was quiet, his gaze on Fuji's cravat. "You did not force me to do this. It was my decision that brought me here, not your own."

Perhaps it had been, but Sanada-san should not have been made to watch things like that. Seiichi knew it would hurt him, and many years ago, when everything was okay, Seiichi would never have done it.

But Seiichi was different now. And many years ago was the past.

And their world had wrecked itself, and they'd made decisions, and things happened, most of which Fuji wished he could forget.

"Are you sorry he loves you?"

"Sanada-san knows what we did, I know Seiichi has told it to you," Fuji averted his gaze. "He is a man, and the things we had done... Perhaps that is my fault."

They lapsed into a thoughtful silence, more thoughtful on Sanada-san's part, and more somber on Fuji's. He tried to help Sanada-san, but Sanada-san waved his hands away.

"Are you able to stand?" Sanada-san finally asked, breaking the silence.

Fuji thought so, and when he felt his back protesting, he bit his lip, hard, so he would not have to show Sanada-san how much he hurt. Sanada-san helped him anyway, and pretended not to notice the way Fuji limped.

"It was a decision you both made," Sanada-san said, looking straight down the hallway, and not at him. "And he has, and will always love you. Do you?"

Fuji smiled. "I do."

They reached the door to Fuji's room, but Sanada-san paused before it, finally meeting his eyes. He had a gaze of a man in love, and perhaps he always had, because as long as Fuji had known him, Sanada-san had loved Seiichi. Maybe Sanada-san had been born to love Seiichi, he did not know. It was a wonderful thing to think, and if Fuji could wish for happy-ever-afters, he would wish for that. But it still seemed so far away now, and perhaps it never would be.

Sanada-san's lips quirked at the corners, Fuji thought it was as close to a smile as Sanada-san would ever get. "As long as there is that, I will not begrudge you his love."

"I will never stop," Fuji declared, pushing the door to his room open. "But I know my place in Seiichi's heart." And maybe he could have told Sanada-san, because Sanada-san loved Seiichi and because he _knew_, but Fuji refrained from continuing, and instead, gave Sanada-san his usual close-eyed smile. "Good day to you, Sanada-san."

Sanada-san replied with the curt nod, and Fuji entered the room, closed the door, flew into Eiji's arms and wept.

* * *

Atobe Keigo surveyed the board once, and decided that he was losing. Not badly, but not very graciously either. He supposed it wouldn't matter if he sacrificed that pawn now, Oshitari would probably have something up his sleeve for it, anyway.

This was why he hated playing chess with Oshitari. He did not look particularly skilled, and he played as if he couldn't care less, but he was a master of moving pieces to ridiculous places and leaving them there until Atobe could figure that said ridiculous place was not really ridiculous at all, because it turned out to be the only obstacle blocking whatever piece Atobe needed so he could move to counter against Oshitari's chess offensive.

"You are cheating," he accused, partly because maybe he was right, mostly because it was something to accuse Oshitari of. He always had the best fun accussing Oshitari of things. They might never be true, but that was a different story altogether.

"Am I?" Oshitari asked mildly, his brow lifted as he mockingly looked the board over. "I am sure I did not mean it." His hand hovered over the piece he had just moved, a black knight, marble carved into precise perfection. "I shall move the knight back and rethink my strategy, shall I?"

Atobe glared, because it sounded as if Oshitari was patronizing him, and no one (but Oshitari, apparently) made a show of patronizing the king of the largest kingdom apart that of the Empire.

"Yes, very well then, I'll put the knight back," Oshitari said, smirking as he moved the knight back to its original place, and moved the pawn several rows from it instead.

Atobe surveyed the board again and decided that he was still losing. Several moves later, Oshitari had the knight in the position he wanted it to be in anyway, and Atobe wondered why he had even bothered.

"I'd wager this is why you have me around," Oshitari gestured to his toppled king. "You are a horrible tactician."

Actually, Atobe was a decent tactician, if he was bothered to try. It was just that genius, miracle-boy Oshitari was too brilliant for his own good, and had let it get to his head. He was a prat, and an annoyingly pompous one that Atobe couldn't stand.

"I have you around because you are a prat."

Oshitari mock-clutched his chest, feigning his hurt.

Atobe rolled his eyes. "And I have a responsibility to protect my people from prats."

And then he looked away, sulkily surveying his courtiers. When he found no interest there, his gaze fell down, to watch a few of his troops in arms practice. Shishido was there, and he looked to be of sour temperament, beating his practice partner down almost angrily, as if there had been something offensive that the man had said.

He doubted it.

"Shishido is in a foul mood today," he commented, still looking away from his devastated troops on the chessboard.

"He is in a foul mood everyday, and you have never bothered with him before. But now that it has come to your attention..." Oshitari's voice was turning serious, and Atobe turned back to face him, because it was better to read Oshitari when they talked business. "Ohtori has not reported for a fortnight."

"Has he?" he asked, motioning for Oshitari to set up the chessboard once again. Oshitari did so, but not before sparing Atobe a look that cannot be shown in polite company. "Perhaps because there is nothing to report."

"Or perhaps because he is dead. Have you thought of that?"

"I think a lot of things," Atobe replied, leaning against the backrest of his chair, moving a pawn forward.

Oshitari spared a moment's glance at the board before he, too, moved a pawn. "And now that we've got you to thinking, would you mind telling me what you thought when you allied yourself with _Tezuka_?"

Atobe looked up from his board. "No, don't tell me." And he took up a mocking version of the way Oshitari was slouched in his chair. "'_You're drawing unnecessary attention from the empire by your joining with an alliance that so obviously wants to conquer it_.'"

The conversation they had that night was still fresh in Atobe's mind, because, being the arrogant prat that he was, Oshitari had not ceased until he had outlined all his arguments against Atobe's decision to prove he was mistaken, and Atobe had gotten minimal sleep because of it. He had woken up to badly-mussed hair, and obvious eyebags and he was still angry at Oshitari because of it.

"Exactly. I do not trust the Emperor Yukimura, and I definitely do not trust he will keep quiet after the alliance is publicly announced. You _know_ he had long wanted to add our fair kingdom to his territories," Oshitari sniffed, moving his bishop. "And I do not _speak_ like a whiny bitch."

"Oh, don't be silly, Oshitari, of _course_ you do," Atobe replied, wearing a smug smile, capturing Oshitari's thrice-accursed knight. "The _Emperor_ wants to add _every_ land to his territories. Ours, most especially." He turned his head to survey the practice once again. "I thought it would be more amusing this way."

"I don't approve of it."

"That is what you said last time, when I decided to send more troops to watch the Eastern Border." He countered Oshitari's fierce assault with his castle. "I recall I was right."

"That's all the more reason for the odds to favor me _this _time."

Atobe surveyed Oshitari's face and burst in laughter. "You should be glad you are not a gambler."

"I _resent_ that." Oshitari mock-scowled at him, striking a feigned-hurt pose. "Just yesterday I-"

"I will say this once, and once only," He cut Oshitari off, before he could ramble, voice sharp and face serious. "I take pride in my kingdom, but there are times I must recognize that compared to the Empire, we are but a small country. I have always thought of it, and if we are to stand a chance to be able to defeat Yukimura and his large, efficient army of madmen, we are in need of allies. There is precious little that would change that truth."

He exhaled, and put back his smug mask, prodding Oshitari's other knight off the board with the edge of his bishop. "At any rate, with the alliance, there shall be much more troops on hand for you to play with. Aren't you happy?"

Oshitari assessed him, long and hard before he shrugged, and returned to his languid posture. "What will I get, if this does not work out the way you want it to?"

Atobe smiled, and this time, it was the smile of the king that had gained more territories than he'd lived years. "Things _will_ work out the way I want it to. That is why I have Ohtori." He spared one more glance at the fuming Shishido before he moved to rise.

"Checkmate, by the way," he said smugly, walking away with two victories in one setting. Things always work out the way Atobe Keigo wanted them to be, and there was never a time he wasn't right.

* * *

His soldiers were noisy when they trained, but Yukimura did not pay them any particular mind. He liked hearing them rowdy, because he knew that one word from him, and they would all fall down on their knees unquestionably.

No one questioned _the_ Yukimura-sama.

He turned his attention back to the map. They had moved to the library, mostly because Yukimura did not want others to see his Syusuke so thoroughly debauched. No one questioned it, and Sanada had long since returned, with the news that Syusuke seemed to have gained a distinct limp.

If anything, it made Yukimura smile.

Yanagi was surveying a few documents, undettered by the noise of the troops. "I should think you would want to watch the Southern Provinces," he said, gesturing to the village Yukimura had razed to the ground, and the areas surrounding it.

"They are getting more and more rowdy by the day, aren't they?" Niou grinned to them from his place at the window, observing the fights that were going on. "I think it's about time you added another conquest in, 'Mura. It will keep them quiet."

"No, I think the destruction of one village was sufficient warning," he replied, smiling pleasantly, shifting in his chair so he could lean his head against the back of his hand. "And I have sent Hiroshi to watch over what had been left of them. I shall trust him to know what actions I would and would not tolerate."

"But hasn't it been over a month since the last addition to our territory?" Marui asked, looking pleadingly at Yukimura, thirsty for the excitement of war.

Yukimura smiled condescendingly. These people were the people he had collected, over the years. They were from different backgrounds, many even, from different territories, but they all had distinguished themselves in the art of war and subterfuge. Yukimura could tolerate them, and perhaps even _like_ them, because they shared the same... interests. And because they were very good at what they do. That was important.

"I did not say we will refrain from war," Yukimura told the room at large. "But where do you suggest we start?"

"Here," Marui grinned, pointing to the areas he himself had hastily (and in Yukimura's opinion, crudely) colored in with the blood of the spy who had informed them of the developments of the growing alliance. "They are growing far too arrogant."

Niou snorted. "I'd second that. Their conceit affronts me."

"And you'd want to head out now, I'd suppose," Yanagi said dryly, perhaps still angry about the fact that Marui had destroyed a completely good map.

"You suppose correctly," Marui answered, and made a face when Yanagi only gave him a level stare.

"Why not?" he said defensively, and shrugged. "I am bored, and it is not fair that only Jackal gets to have fun."

"He has not even returned from his campaign in the West," Yukimura informed him mildly.

And it had been a great, albeit bloody, campaign. Jackal had handled himself excellently, and he had only lost an inconsequential amount of men because of it. Yukimura had no complaints, had another kingdom to add to his territories, and had finally sealed his southwestern border.

"He has been declared victorious _a month ago_," Marui insisted, stomping his foot childishly. "I am bored."

"Marui," Sanada growled threateningly, and Marui pouted and crossed his arms but quieted down obediently.

"Patience, Bunta. Wine tastes best when you allow it to sit for a few moments," Yukimura mused thoughtfully. "But I'm afraid I see that we do not have that luxury."

He leaned forward to trace the edges of the color Marui had added to the map. "If we do not move, kingdoms I've been eyeing might be sucked up into that disastrous arrangement."

"Tachibana's peasant kingdom, you mean?" Niou smiled darkly, waving a sealed document. "They already have."

Yukimura's face darkened, and he surveyed the map once again. "When?"

"Right before I headed back," Niou informed them all. "Tezuka had been sending diplomats to Tachibana even before he considered Atobe. It had taken much to uncover these documents. It had been a well-kept secret, until Tachibana agreed to sign the treaty."

"Trying to keep it from me, would you not say?" Yukimura's voice was pleasant, but layered with quiet steel.

"'Mura?" Even Marui's voice was hushed.

Yukimura stood up, and approached Niou in his place by the window. He took the document calmly, and his smile was pasted on his face, but the rage was so potent, they could feel it crackle the very atmosphere.

Yukimura tossed the document away, after he had read its contents, and looked out the window. He had wanted Tachibana's kingdom for Tachibana's connections and secret alliance with both Shiraishi and Chitose, which made up for the fact that the new kingdom Tachibana had formed had little to no history of which to speak of. They were fluorishing kingdoms, all three of them, but they had not yet reached the condition Yukimura desired his territories to be. However Tezuka, as he always has done, enjoyed spoiling his plans.

"He was always _wont_ to take away _my_ things," he murmured angrily. He watched the practice duel thoughtfully, as the soldier to the right lost his helmet, revealing bloodshot eyes, and messy dark hair. He was laughing as he thrust his sword and drew blood.

"Bunta," he called back, not tearing his eyes away from the duel. "How soon can you muster your troops?" As a member of his psuedo-council, Marui was a general in command of a fair number of full-sized armies.

"Excellent," Marui replied, bouncing down from his perch on the table. He had always wanted to lead the vanguard of the invading army, and now he was, and he was more than a little prepared for it. Yukimura must have known, as well, or he would not have called Marui like he did. He knew Marui was much better elsewhere. "I've had them in drills, manuevers and ready for march all of this month."

"Start with Yamabuki," Yukimura ordered, feeling a smile incoming as the other watching soldiers got wise and started to pull the dark-haired soldier away from his duel partner.

Yamabuki was a relatively small kingdom, ruled by a sly old king, but he had been sly far too late. Perhaps, if he truly had been as sly as the talk suggested, then he would have not formed a bond with the kingdom Yukimura most despised. They had a General that interested Yukimura, and, if he still lived after the conquest, maybe Sengoku could be offered a position in his guard. And that other black sheep soldier, Akutsu. But he doubted it. He'd sent Marui, with the knowledge that he had the habit of not leaving anyone alive, after all.

It would be a good asset, he supposed, just a few miles off the border, with thriving mines from being so close to the mountains. It was also one of Tezuka's more closer allies.

Which meant, "I shall give them time to fear me."

Tezuka, most especially. He had avoided his kingdom, because it would upset Syusuke once he did invade, but he had always hated Tezuka. He had never liked him, to begin with, but somewhere along the way, Tezuka had crossed the line everyone knew better than to cross.

No one tried to take away what Yukimura claimed as his own. _No one_.

That which belonged to Yukimura belonged to Yukimura _alone_.

"Niou," he breathed. "You know what I'll have you do."

"Very good, Your Majesty," Niou replied, but he said it fondly, because he knew Yukimura and Yukimura's moods. They all did.

"Oh, and Sanada," he called, pointing to the dark-haired soldier who had left his duel partner lying in a pool of blood. "I want that kid."

* * *

"Yield!"

Echizen Ryoma pressed his boot down to the man's chest a little harder, before he got off, and wiped the sweat from his eyes. This was his twentieth consecutive victory, but he was hardly satisfied.

He dropped his broadsword to the ground, almost angrily, as his partner scrambled out of the training grounds. There were very few soldiers here now. Most of them were off in drills, preparing for the war that was to come. As a result, he had fewer opponents to take down.

Momo grinned at him from where he was leaning against the pillars, but it did nothing to lessen his anger.

"_Samurai Nanjiroh's son,"_ that monkey-king had said, the way everyone in this wretched kingdom had whispered when he had joined its military. Except he didn't even have it in him to _whisper_, he pointed at Ryoma like Ryoma was a _thing_, a tasteless tapestry he was forced to look at, that interested him a little, but not enough.

_Damn it, he was not his father!_

It was bloody well the reason why he had run away from his home, because all his father's courtiers, all his teachers, all his fellow soldiers saw him only as the child son of the greatest king that had ruled their lands.

Fat lot of good that perverted idiot did them, when Yukimura finally decided to invade.

Whatever he had been expecting when he ran away, he had not expected to hear news of his kingdom's downfall. He had been in a battle at that time, protecting the northern border, and news had always lagged on the battlefield. But he _had_ found out, slowly, and belatedly, first of the sheer size of the invading force, then how his father had died fighting off its first wave.

Rumour has it that Yukimura himself had led that army.

Perhaps they were right, and whether or not they were, it did not matter, Ryoma just needed someone he could blame for his family's demise.

...It might have been his fault.

If he had not run away, would he have been there to take the reins after his father's death? Would he have had the strength to muster his father's troops and organize them, and direct their fury at their king's death where it had been needed to be directed?

Would he have been able to save his kingdom, make a name for _himself_, finally, kept his mother and his cousin alive, and perhaps... just perhaps, topple Yukimura's corrupt empire?

But Ryoma... wasn't a tactician. He might have been, if he had paid any particular attention to his tutors, but he had been too busy looking out the window, his mind in the parade grounds instead of the library, trying to device plans to be able to get his father's soldiers to recognize _him_. It was a pity, because his mother was brilliant, both in combat and tactics, and, well, if Ryoma tried, he might have found out what he had gotten from her blood.

But he was too busy fighting against his father's shadow.

"Oi, Echizen!" Momo tapped his shoulder with the blunt edge of a blade. He must have approached Ryoma while he was lost in thought. He turned around to see Momoshiro Takeshi lounging against the hilt of another sword, patting him lazily with the blade of the first one. "I said spar with me."

Ryoma threw his glance at the grounds, and the eyes of the few remaining soldiers that were there that dropped automatically when he tried to meet theirs. Despite himself, he could feel his lips tugging upwards into a smirk. His eyes fell down to Momoshiro's bandaged ankle, and weighed getting Tezuka angry as opposed to having a decent duel partner, for once. Perhaps he could get away with around a hundred runs around the castle before sundown.

"Are you insulting me, Momo-sempai?" he asked, just to be sure. He was _not_ fighting against Momo just to become his personal laughingstock.

"Hardly," Momo's smile was challenging, as he tossed the blade he had been tapping Ryoma with up to the air, catching it neatly by its hilt. "I'm coming at you with two swords, am I not?"

Ryoma picked up his broadsword, and hefted it up over his shoulder. "Just... do not go crying to Tezuka when you lose."

"As if I would do that!" Momo punched him on his shoulder in reproach.

"Yes, sure, Momo-sempai," Ryoma hid his smirk by carrying off a loose stance. "If it makes you feel better, you _are_ allowed to lie to yourself. I don't suppose that's a crime."

Momo raised his two swords as they circled each other slowly. "I think you had better do good by watching your mouth, kid."

"Too bad for you," Ryoma kept his eyes on Momo's form, watching out for any slight twitch in the muscle that would give away movement. His voice was getting softer and softer, and adrenaline was pumping through his body, in preparation for a fight. Already, he could not remember their previous conversation, but he tried to continue with, "Have you ever-"

As if on an unspoken signal, he and Momo surged forward and their blades clashed with a resounding _clang_.

It has been long since Ryoma had last sparred with Momo, his ankle had prevented him from doing much after the last border battle. Or perhaps Momo's upper body had just gotten stronger, for the force against his sword was now stronger than Ryoma had recalled.

He dove to the left just as one of the two swords whipped through the air above him, and he raised his hands to counter the other sword's movement. That was right. Momo had always been too eager to show off his strength. It was always only in the middle of a duel that he'd get wise, and actually start to think strategy, but most of the time, it was either too late for him, or too late for his weak opponent.

Even now, Ryoma could see a rather large opening to his chest when Momo would raise his swords.

He switched his sword to his left hand, and drove it forwards, hilt-first, his right hand ready to receive it once again, towards Momo and the wide opening on his chest. Realizing this, Momo moved to bring one sword down, stepping back on his right ankle, making a misstep...

And falling down on his ass, his large swords dropping to the ground with loud, protesting sounds.

Ryoma resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'd warrant you knew this would happen," he said, lying down on his back in the middle of the training grounds.

Ryoma only shrugged. "This is not why you came here to look for me." He peered closer at his senior. "Are you _sulking_?" he asked, his tone unbelieving.

"What? No!" Momo tried to protest before he sputtered, and threw and arm to cover his eyes. "Yes, well, the Viper is being sent to Yamabuki for... well, to warn the old goat to watch his mountain passes, I'd suppose."

"Is that so?"

"That all you have to say?" Momo sat up incredulously.

Most likely, Ryoma thought, Kaidoh was being sent there to watch over Yamabuki's defenses for Tezuka. Their king was a man who, unfortunately, trusted the kingdom's golden goose who happened to be their best general, too much, when the man was too lax and cheery for his own good. Maybe, if Sengoku Kiyosumi wasn't busy looking for wenches to take to his bed, and maybe, if he _planned _his troops' movements every once in a while, instead of just going "Lucky~ Lucky~" on the battlefield, Tezuka wouldn't have had to send them a caretaker. Momo couldn't very well do it, his ankle was still healing, and his wound had to be restitched three times this week because of his own stubborness. Oishi would only worry himself half to death, Inui was too busy in his dungeons doing only heaven knew what, Taka was too gentle, and Arai had a temper (and would be too distracted looking for a wench to take to bed, as well).

Kaidoh was the obvious choice.

Of course, Ryoma could have done it.

But Tezuka was too busy _coddling_ him.

"I don't _envy_ him his meeting with Sengoku," he grunted, leaving Momo, and the training grounds in a far fouler mood than he had come.

* * *

Thanks to all you guys who read the first chapter. I know it was kinda confusing, but it'll make more and more sense as we go along :)

If any of you guys have time, do drop by and tell me what you think :)

/silverglitters


	3. 3

**AN: **Well, technically, I am in the middle of my term exams, but I am really tired of studying -sobsob- So, here I am, procrastinating... I do worry about how my exams are gonna turn out at this point, but, well, I figure, I might as well do something productive, so here's another chapter for you guys who actually read this :)

A little **warning**, though, for language and Yuki-chan being really evil, but, I repeat, there is a reason for that. Really, I love Yuki-chan -heart-

* * *

**03**

* * *

Ohtori Choutaro was not born to be a spy.

If one asked him, he detested lying, having to pretend to be someone else entirely, and he hated, most emphatically, _hated_ having to peruse other people's documents, when he had earned no right to invade their privacy.

But, Atobe-san was his King, Atobe-san did not ask, and Ohtori was the lesser-known son of one of Atobe's more faithful lesser-known nobles, which gave him perfect position to safely (or as safe as one could get with a tyrant like Yukimura-san) lurk in the emperor's garden (in the metaphorical and literal sense). He'd been trained, and he'd actually proven to be of some worth, enough at least, to lead him to Yukimura-san's empire.

It had been easy to pass off as an orphan from one of the newer territories. Orphans always resulted from wars, and once he got past Yukimura-san's fierce guard dogs, it was easier to go from there.

Yukimura-san was a tyrant, and more than a little bloodthirsty, but he ruled his people in a strict, disciplined way that ensured not one person wanted for food. Or anything else.

Freedom and justice, maybe, but many soon forgot about how they had once been part of a separate kingdom.

In a way, it made Ohtori feel even more horrible, because despite his many misgivings, Yukimura-san was actually a good ruler (well, sort of).

But so was Atobe-san, and he had no desire to hand his kingdom over so Yukimura-san could slaughter all the people he loved and annex the kingdom he had grown up on to become part of his territories. Yukimura-san might be a good ruler in the way that his people received what they needed, but he did not do it out of love.

And Ohtori would be _damned_ before he gave his kingdom away to someone who did not even love his people.

So he had sent a message of the muster of Marui's troops, to warn his kingdom that Yukimura was starting to move towards their kingdom. Perhaps not yet, but he was going there.

Ohtori sighed as he finished trimming the grass. The gardens in Yukimura-san's palace were expansive, and though no one had confirmed it, possibly even bigger than his palace itself. Yukimura-san had an entire team of gardeners whose sheer number had surprised even Ohtori, and his gardens were always painstakingly kept perfect.

Now, it was an organized splash of colors, flowers tumbling against perfectly trimmed grass. Roses of various colors dominated most of the gardens.

A bell rang to signal the workers for a break, but Ohtori did not stand. He waved to the other gardeners, most of whom had become his friends of sorts, but stayed where he was. He always felt nauseated after he'd done his job, and he did not feel like wanting to eat right now. He looked at his hands and sighed again, finding himself trudging towards the 'untouchable pavilion.'

It was the gardeners' favorite gossip piece, most especially while they worked. All the gardeners took care of every part of the emperor's large gardens but for a small portion by a garden pavilion. They were not allowed to touch any part of it, and the head of the servants had even gone as far as promise them a lashing if they so much as _looked_ at it. But _everyone_ looked, because even though no one dared to step over the invisible boundary separating that part of the garden from everything else, it could be said that it was the most beautiful part of the emperor's gardens, with the plants fluorishing, blooming almost vivaciously, in chaotic order that was beautiful and... _serene_.

Ohtori always went there, whenever he felt as if he was a worthless human being because there was something about that part of the garden that, even if he was merely looking, seemed to calm his soul.

Ohtori's shoulders sagged as he started to relax, only to feel himself stiffen once again, because there was a person sitting between rose bushes, murmuring indistinctly as he pruned.

So, this was the mysterious gardener. His eyes widened, and he tried to move back quietly so as he would not disturb him.

But the gardener, and he debated on whether this person was male or female, had raised his head and took note of him.

"Uhm..." He removed his hat, and bowed his head.

"Good afternoon to you," the garderner greeted in a quiet voice that seemed to carry itself naturally to his ears.

"Good afternoon," he replied quietly, still with his head bowed.

"You are a gardener?"

Ohtori nodded his head fervently, wishing he had just came in with the others and eaten the meal.

"Raise your head, I do not bite." And it was said so laughingly, he obeyed and gave the other gardener a tentative smile.

The encouraging smile the other wore widened. "Would you like to join me?"

"I..." Ohtori looked back to the deserted gardens, before his gaze drew back to the mysterious smiling gardener. "Is it alright?"

The other shrugged, his smile not diminishing one bit. "I asked, did I not?"

"Then, please excuse me." And he stepped over the invisible boundary no one had been brave enough to cross. There was something about the other's presence that drew you to him, that made you want to go nearer, that made it seem like a thousand lashings would be alright.

He sat down in polite distance from the other, and very intelligently blurted out, "You are a gardener, as well?"

The other blinked, almost as if he did not pause to consider that question before. He got a glimpse of his eyes then, and even though it was only a very brief glimpse, Ohtori thought he could have seen the sky. "I tend to this garden, yes." His gaze drifted around, before it settled on the rose he was holding. "Though I am compelled to add that I do not possess much skill to be of your trade."

Ohtori looked at the small part of the garden that the other had tended, and was about to open his mouth to disagree, when he found himself _really_ looking at his companion.

And though he was sitting on the _ground_, looking very much at home pruning rose bushes, the extravagance of his clothes was unmistakable, and neither was the air of authority and elegance that he carried easily. (Also, he realized, the gardener was a _boy_.)

Of all the... "Pardon my rudeness, My Lord," he said quickly, bowing his head again.

"None of that," was the reply, and he raised his eyes to see the other's never-disappearing smile. There was a short pause before the other continued, "I am called Fuji."

* * *

Kirihara Akaya had ambitions. He might have been born in a tiny, backwater town, in one of the smallest, easiest conquests of the empire, but he had ambitions.

More than that, he had _great_ ambitions. That's what happened when you were an orphaned kid nobody really ever cared about, with much time in your hands to dream of the time when you'd leave that hellhole, make a name and a fortune for yourself and come back and rub it in the face of all those who'd treated you like shit that you were now so much better off than them.

The first time he'd killed somebody (a petty thief who'd shoved a knife to his throat like he didn't know any better, and he didn't, stupid man) was when he'd realized that he'd do great as a soldier.

It wasn't even hard. The empire has always been fighting wars left and right, and was forever recruiting soldiers, most preferably _young_ soldiers, from the male populace. Many of them remained alive, but always, _always_ came back different, part of the whole that was the empire's unstoppable war machine.

He got into the army easy, but making a name for himself, that was the difficult part. In the army, everyone jockeyed for power. It was every man for himself, and you were more likely to die in your bed because you've shoved the wrong person the wrong way and he decided to get back at you than in battles where the emperor's calculated tactics more often than not saved your life.

It was a long, and painful journey to the capital, and an even more painful one to get himself instilled into the palace grounds.

But when he did, and when he was summoned to appear before the emperor, he knew he'd struck a gold mine.

It wasn't anything fancy. Some soldier he did not know told him to fix himself ("Get that fucking blood off your fucking uniform, you son of a bitch!") and go to the parade grounds after lunch, because the Emperor wanted to see him ("If you get lucky, you might end up hanged for one reason or another, at the end of the day.").

And of course, after he'd beaten up the soldier for his insults ("Why don't you fuck off and mind your own fucking business?"), he'd fixed himself and lounged to the parade grounds that he was supposed to go to.

Waiting for him were a great number of soldiers, each holding a great variety of swords. This annoyed him, because he thought he was the only one summoned by the emperor. He stomped his foot for a few moments as he was ignored, tried to judge at the time, and came up with a brilliant idea.

He might not be the only one summoned by the emperor, but by the time the emperor got _here_, he'd make sure he was the only one _standing_.

And sure enough, when three people made their way into the afternoon sun, the grounds smelled of blood and was littered with bodies of the countless soldiers he had defeated.

Bodies, by the way, that were no longing moving.

He pointed his sword, still dripping with blood, at the newcomers. They were a weird assortment of soldiers. The one that had short, cropped brown hair had his eyes closed (damn, was he blind?) and the other looked too frail and too skinny to even _be_ a soldier. The only one who actually looked the part was the tanned guy standing stiffly behind the frail travesty of a soldier.

"You soldiers of the _Empire_ are nothing much," he taunted, waving his blade in the air. "The lot of you fight like a wench."

The frail one merely raised his eyebrows. He was smiling, like what he was seeing was oh-so-very-amusing to him. "Really?"

"Want to fight me?" He challenged, noting the swords on their hips. "I shall show you just how much of a wench you lot are."

"Very well, then," he said, chuckling. "I shall humor you." Then, he tilted his small head to the side. "Renji, if you please."

The blind soldier paused for one long moment, then he was moving. Kirihara was not _sure_ how he knew the blind man was moving, just that one moment he was beside the frail lady, and the next his blade was clashing with Kirihara's own.

He was so surprised, he almost let go of his sword. The _fuck_. He did his best to deflect the blows, but the blind man was surprisingly strong, and unbelievably sure and precise with his movements.

A scant few minutes later, he was lying on the ground, panting, holding his sword loosely while the blind man's blade pointed to his throat.

"Fuck."

The frail, blue-haired soldier drifted to his side, and crouched down to loom over him. "Wenches, is that right?" he asked, looking horribly smug for something he did not do. Bitch. "I suppose the joke's on you, then, being defeated by _wenches_."

And even though there was still, technically, a blade to his throat, he raised his sword to try to hack down the other man down. But it was met by another blade, this time, belonging to that other man, the one who actually looked like a soldier.

The bitch's smile widened. "You still want to fight?" He stood up, and waved the blind man and his blade away. "Go ahead."

He jumped to his feet and faced the other man. His face was expressionless, and his stance was as stiff as it was when he was standing. Kirihara gripped his sword tighter, and moved to attack.

...And, _fuck_, he lasted in an even shorter time than he had with the blind man.

And the bitch was smiling, _smiling_. It was so damn annoying.

"Hey," he said, pointing his finger at bitch's direction. "You think you're so good, why don't _you_ fight?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you." He spat what blood he still had left in his mouth at the ground. "I don't see any other bitches around here, do I?"

The bitch's eyes narrowed as he unsheathed his sword and snapped out, "Get out of my way, Sanada."

He smirked as the soldier immediately moved away, and was replaced by the petite, small, fragile body of the blue-haired bitch.

He was _still_ smiling. "Just tell me when you are ready."

He scowled. Was he _insulting_ him? "Ready," he said, hefting his blade up...

And finding himself on the ground. Again. For the _fucking_ third _fucking_ time. This time, though, his sword had flown to heaven knows where, his arm was bleeding, and the bitch was straddling him, his blade actually _pressed_ to his throat, drawing blood.

The bitch's face loomed over Kirihara's and he narrowed his eyes, racking his brains, because somehow, the face looked a bit familiar. Like the face of...

"Akaya-kun," he was saying cheerfully, pressing his blade deeper. "I like your spirit. But next time, I'd suggest for you to amend your language when you are in the presence of your Emperor."

* * *

"Fuji-sama, then."

For one reason, or another, Fuji-sama's reaction to that was an involutary _snap_ of his shears and the rose that he had been holding so delicately drifted down towards the no man's land between Ohtori and Fuji-sama.

"Oh my," Fuji-sama murmured, but he did not make a move to take the rose. "You had better just take that then..." He paused. "Forgive me, I have been terribly rude. Might I ask for your name?"

And because he was busy staring at the flower, he had blurted out, "Ohtori," very stupidly. Ohtori was not his name, at least not here, but as Fuji-sama repeated his name, he knew it was too late to do anything about it.

He hoped that Fuji-sama was not, in any way, related to Yukimura-san, else he'd be dead.

"Then, Ohtori-kun, why don't you take that, and give it to your lover?"

"I... don't have any." He replied flatly, his mind still whirling possibilities and consequences he really did not want to think about.

"I do not believe it," Fuji-sama's smile hadn't changed, it was still the same small, encouraging smile that he had been giving Ohtori since the beginning of their meeting. "Handsome boy like you."

No, they should stop talking about him. It was the calming atmosphere that this Fuji-sama possessed that was wearing down on Ohtori's guard. He cannot afford another mistake. God forbid he actually started talking about Shishido-san or _worse_, his King. "What about Fuji-sama then?"

This time, he got to see Fuji-sama's eyes. They were very beautiful, glittering like pretty sapphires, but there was something infinitely sad lurking in their depths, almost as if Fuji-sama was pleading desperately for something he can never have, only Ohtori did not know what.

And the moment his eyes opened, that sadness just seemed to naturally take over his very being, until the air of silent melancholy overpowered everything else. Something in Ohtori's heart reacted to that sadness, made him want to coax Fuji-sama out of his grief, made him want to forget that Fuji-sama was a noble of the empire that was threatening to crush his kingdom.

Now, Fuji-sama was just a sad person, and Ohtori's heart squeezed.

But Fuji-sama closed his eyes again, and smiled sadly. "Yes. He _does_ love roses so." But the distant melancholia did not disappear, and neither did Ohtori's desire to comfort him, or at least, alleviate that sadness.

Ohtori's eyes tried to search for another _something_ that he could be able to talk about.

The glint of silver against the light caught his attention. "That is a very nice necklace." It was not a good comment, especially since he could not even see the pendant, hidden away underneath the collar, but it was something else to talk about.

It turned out to not be a very good decision, because if anything, the sadness only seemed to grow, even though Fuji-sama kept a smile on his face. He raised his hand to touch the chain.

"My brother had always been fond of it," he said, his voice getting softer and softer with every word he uttered.

"He is here with you, your brother?"

The smile widened, and the sadness became even more pressing. "He... He is gone now. Though not one day passes by that I do not think of him."

"Oh, forgive me, I-"

But before he could continue, try to apologize, attempt at comfort, _anything_, a separate pleasant voice called-

"Syusuke, perhaps you might care to join me for tea? The flowers would not..." But the voice trailed off into silence, as its owner took note of the situation at hand.

And when he lifted his face, he was met with cold, malicious eyes the color of cut amethysts. (There were two other sets of eyes, one that looked fearful and worried, and another that was impassive and emotionless, but he was too transfixed by the first pair, he hardly noticed.) And with a jolt, and his heart dropping from his stomach, he realized he was staring at _him_, the _Emperor Yukimura_.

And that Fuji-sama must know him intimately.

And ohgodFuji-samaknewhistruename!

"My... Your Majesty!" He bowed his head quickly, his heart hammering, trying to hide the trembling in his hands. There was something supremely evil... supremely _twisted_ behind those eyes, as if it was devoid of anything other than darkness itself. It was how he thought it would be like to look at the eyes of a demon, his gaze enough to cause life itself to wither away. And the way he looked at Ohtori, almost as if... almost... His body gave an involuntary shudder.

"What are you doing in my garden?" The voice was as cold as his eyes, and his very gaze froze Ohtori's blood, and his body.

"I-"

"I asked for him to join me, Seiichi," Fuji-sama cut in, and he could feel the shifting of cloth, Fuji-sama must be standing up. "He does not mean any harm, he is one of your gardeners."

"I shall be the judge of that," was the cutting reply. Ohtori did not raise his head to look. He was too busy trying to keep his heart where it belonged.

"Get back inside."

"Seiichi, you cannot-"

"Get back inside, Syusuke." This time, there was an exasperated, almost hysterical edge to the tone, though it did not rise or drop in any way. "I have not much in the way of patience at the moment, and I have no wish to hurt you. So, get back inside."

There was a long pause, one that Ohtori spent counting his heartbeats. He did not know, perhaps those were the last beats his heart would be allowed to give. He was sweating profusely now, and he still could not stop himself from shaking.

If anything, it got increasingly worse.

There was a sigh. "Fine. Eiji, let us-"

"_No_. Him... He should stay."

"Seiichi-"

"I will not argue with you over this, Syusuke. _Leave us_."

It was undoubtedly a command, Yukimura enunciated each word carefully, slowly, with an air that left no room for arguments. He could sense Fuji-sama's hesitation, and Ohtori almost wished he would stay. He had the strange notion that Yukimura-san would stay his hand, with Fuji-sama's presence.

"Do not hurt them, Seiichi." Fuji-sama's tone was hard. And it was a warning, too, as if Fuji-sama actually had some power, or at least some guts, to demand anything of the _Emperor_.

"I will leave them intact for you, but I promise you nothing beyond that."

When Fuji-sama hesitated again, the emperor called, "Sanada," and a scuffle followed that call. But it was not long after that a set of heavy footsteps led away from them, and at the corner of his eye, Ohtori saw Fuji-sama being carried away by a tall, muscled man.

The change on the emperor and the atmosphere was immediate, and suddenly, Ohtori was very, very sure that he was going to die.

"You."

He raised his head, only to see the emperor stalking forwards to the quivering form of a redheaded servant. He reached out a hand toward's the redhead's neck, and almost effortlessly, raised him up into the air.

The servant gasped and flopped uselessly, like a marionette being cut from its strings, but Yukimura-san did not seem to notice. "How many times must you break my trust?" And thus saying, he threw the servant down, hard and Ohtori's throat went dry, when the servant let out a cry as he skidded across the ground, blood marking the path he had come from.

"I do not understand, My Lord," the servant gasped out between whimpers. He was cradling his right arm, and Ohtori suspected it might be broken.

"You do not?" A hand whipped out to point directly towards Ohtori, telling him he had not been forgotten. "Have I not told you to keep Syusuke away from _questionable _company?" He was kicking the servant now, unmindful of the whimpers, and the cries. But no matter how hurt he looked, it surprised Ohtori that not once did the servant ask his lord to stop.

Ohtori _wanted_ to stop it, but his body was too frozen to move.

"Tell me, Kikumaru-kun, do you know this man?"

There wasn't an answer, but Ohtori could tell it was because the servant was busy gasping for air. Yukimura pressed his foot against the one named Kikumaru's chest, and demanded, "Well, do you?"

"No, My Lord," the servant replied, but it was barely there.

"No?" The tone was mocking, incredulous but mocking. "Interesting, that. You let him near Syusuke and you did not even know who he is. What were you going to tell me, if Syusuke was slayed by his hand? What _would_ you tell me, Kikumaru-kun?" He pressed his boot cruelly against the small chest, and the servant arched up, convulsing around it.

And Yukimura was _smiling_, as if he genuinely enjoyed dealing out injuries on his servants, as if he geniunely enjoyed the blood and the tears pouring out of the poor man on the ground. "I have been patient, Kikumaru-kun, but you need to learn your place."

And then, as Ohtori had dreaded, Yukimura turned to face him, with a pleasant smile Ohtori was sure killers would wear, the moment they taste the fear of their prey.

He swallowed, and that small act took a lot for him to be able to do it properly. Yukimura was frightening, the very air crackled with his anger, and his eyes spoke nothing but darkness, as if... As if he no longer had anything good left in his heart, because evil had killed it, and thrown it away.

Like the eyes of demons.

"What are you?"

"Y-Your gardener, Your Majesty." And he was proud of how steady he had kept his voice.

"Oh? That is all?"

"Fuji-sama... He saw me, and asked for me to join him. That is all."

"And he is too trusting for his own good. I have forgotten."

A pause.

"Killing you," Yukimura started, and Ohtori's heart sped up again. "Would merit me nothing, only Syusuke's ire."

It sounded like... He was letting Ohtori go? But his smile, his merciless, bloodthirsty smile, said otherwise.

"I'd stay my hand," he said, smile widening. "But if I see you anywhere near my, or Syusuke's presence ever again, I would not stop to ask questions. I do not care how far away you are, or how fast you can move. I'm a very good shot."

He closed his eyes, and smiled, and if Ohtori had not seen firsthand how ruthless he truly was, he would have said that smile to be pleasant.

As it was, he was too busy trembling.

"Run, little mouse," Yukimura was saying, turning away. "Never return."

And Ohtori, though he did not know how he did it, got his legs to move, as he ran away before Yukimura changed his mind and truly killed him. His heart pounded against his ribs, hammering loudly, and it did not stop, even as he collapsed against the wall of a house he'd never seen in a place he'd never been to.

He clutched both arms against his chest and asked himself exactly what part of that monster was human.

* * *

Marui Bunta was a genius, and as such, he carried his titles with ease.

He was a born noble in the then Yukimura Kingdom, and his House's history spanned as long as the kingdom itself's long, bloody history. He was twenty and a general, and though he was young, he was smarter and wiser than veteran warriors twice his age, and had yet to lose a single battle.

Because, and this can never be stressed enough, he was a genius.

His friends and companions in 'Mura's council might add that he was wont to bend rules he did not like, was attentive when he wanted to be, and had an excessive obsession for sugar. Few idiots called him out on his poor battle performance because he had always lacked the stamina. Besides, did that really matter, when he could outthink them all and disarm them with one flick of his wrist because them dolts never really used their heads? No, of course not. What mattered was that he was not the one dead at the end.

The few who _did_ use their heads never really used enough, because nobody could outclass the brains of a genius.

Not even a dozen war-hardened commanders.

It had been easy to call for them after Yukimura's order, mostly because he'd had them ready ever since Jackal's victory with that silly little kingdom on the southwest. He expected to be inspecting the regiments soon, after this meeting, but this was just a formality, mostly, because he'd had his commanders briefed of the kingdoms of the alliance's lands two weeks ago.

It was a simple matter to put up the map of Yamabuki's territories, and further analyze the terrain they would be battling in.

It had taken only an hour to outline his plans, and all the counter-measures he'd thought up thoroughly, because he'd had dozens of them, for many different kingdoms in case 'Mura finally decided to let him lead the vanguard force of the invasion.

He could never be prepared enough. Even as he spoke, he was smoothing out all the problems he thought he could still see with a few of his plans, but he did not think he had to alter most of it.

"No," he replied to the question of one of his newer commanders. "The first assault would only be to see their forces, and assess their tactical methods. I'm not in any hurry to invade, and most likely 'Mura would not want damage to Yamabuki's mines." Yamabuki rose up from a mountainous and rocky terrain, and though Marui had to see to be sure, his scouts had already reported some very useful sites where he could use the terrain to his advantage. However, there was a delicate balance between destroying the kingdom and keeping the mines, one where he wanted to be sure not to tip the scales. "We cannot simply charge and raze the enemy to the ground, or was that what you were about to suggest?"

The commander who'd asked the question dropped his head, and an uneasy silence settled on the room.

Another man cleared his throat. "My Lord, to make use of the terrain in that way... Is it wise?" He laid his hands spread out on the map. "The locals would be more familiar of this landscape, and would be more likely to have... _traps_ prepared against us."

"And is this a new concept?" Marui raised an eyebrow, his tone playfully mocking, dripping with sarcasm. "That an army would take advantage of the terrain and their opponents' lack of knowledge about it to get ahead? My, I never knew!" He clapped his hands together. "What other new things would happen in this war? Perhaps next, they will try to kill us! Whatever shall we do?"

And though Marui was smiling, all the other commanders in the room were silent. They did not want to drag his attention to them in any way, because Marui could cut them all down very easily if he wanted to. The young twenty-year-old general did not make his way to the Emperor's favor just because he was a noble, after all. Heaven only knew how many other nobles in the land the Emperor had executed for the question of loyalty. No, Marui was in Yukimura's inner circle because he was as ruthless as his master.

And angering a ruthless genius who had the ear of the most powerful man in their land was not the best way to keep one's life.

"That may be so," the same man dared to say, dropping his head at Marui's gaze. "However, we would be at a disadvantage not being as familiar with the roads, and what with Yamabuki soldiers being rumoured to be rugged barbarians..."

"Are you implying, then, that they are stronger than our soldiers?"

"No, My Lord. Just that they have the... motivation of protecting their home, and their families..."

"Oh." Marui drawled, leaning against the table. He hated stupid people, and now that he was exhausting himself talking to them, he badly needed some cake. Preferably one with strawberries, or something just as sweet. Or maybe a parfait. "Let me give you a motivation, then, commander." He pretended to take his time to think. "Perhaps, it could be surviving the war? Or, not facing the Emperor's wrath because of poor military performance, how about that?"

He held back a laugh as everyone in the room flinched. He should have just mentioned 'Mura right from the start. After all, as much as the officers in this room feared him, they feared their Emperor perhaps a thousand times more.

"Well, then, now that _that's_ settled, Commander Fubuki," he faced the man that had been arguing with him all of this afternoon. "I'm expecting you to _personally_ lead your army in the first assault. As we have agreed, the rest of the army group will be elsewhere, so do note that there will be no reserve troops behind your own."

He smirked at the horror that was making its way to the man's eyes. Served him right. "As such, you will _not_ retreat, neither will you try to negotiate with enemy officers. And at the end of this campaign, I'm expecting to see you either as a triumphant commander regaling your men with the tales of your bravery, or as a corpse."

* * *

Help me get inspiration for my tests and review? :)

/silverglitters


	4. 4

**AN: **I'm on a roll! :D I'm trying to enjoy as much of my (pseudo) freedom as I can before shit starts rolling downhill again, pardon my language. Really, the amount of time I spend writing surprises me! That and well, Dangan Ronpa. Did you guys KNOW there was a Dangan Ronpa 2? There's a Dangan Ronpa 2. While I'm still trying to find a way to work around Celes' hair to cosplay her properly. WHAT WORLD IS THIS.

Not much war action on this chapter, but more on relationships and The Strange Case of Fuji Syusuke :)

* * *

**04**

* * *

The next morning, when Yukimura woke up, dressed and walked all the way to Syusuke's quarters, he knew it was a bad day.

He took time to compose himself at the other side of the room. He tried to remind himself to be gentle, not only because of what he had done yesterday, but because of what today was, even though he remembered today for a completely different reason than Syusuke did.

He knocked at the door, announced himself, and opened the door by himself when it did not open from the inside.

Only to duck to the side to avoid a rather large tome on a collision course to his face.

"A book, Syusuke?" he questioned good-humoredly. "You must be angry at me."

"Perhaps I am!" Syusuke raged, his eyes meeting Yukimura's. The potent fury Yukimura found in their depths, milling with the usual sadness that had always been there felt like a harsh slap to his face.

"Perhaps I am," Syusuke repeated, more evenly. "Has it never crossed your mind that I could?"

Kikumaru, his limbs wrapped in bandages was there, hovering behind Syusuke, trying to soothe him with words Yukimura did not care to hear. He was too busy looking at the tears gathering at Syusuke's eyes.

And something in his chest twisted. "Syusuke," he called, reaching out, moving closer to the distressed boy.

"No! Do not come any closer!" Syusuke's eyes still blazed, but now, Yukimura could sense the pain and the frustration he was trying to hide. "Who has given you permission to enter my chambers?"

That something in his chest twisted even more. "Do not do this, Syusuke," he found himself pleading, moving forward once again.

"I said do not come closer!" Syusuke screamed, burying his face in his hands, collapsing in on himself, falling to his knees on the floor, his shoulders shaking. "I don't... I don't wish you near me."

"You _know_ I can't _do_ that." He stopped a fair distance away from Syusuke, and kneeled down on the floor, too. "You _know_ I can't."

"Because it will hurt me?" was Syusuke's muffled reply. "Because you do not want to hurt me?" Syusuke raised his face, and it was tear-streaked, and very pale. When he spoke again, his voice was strained, and he trembled visibly. "But you already _have_.I am hurting right now."

Without asking for permission, Yukimura lunged forward, acting on instinct and desire, enveloping Syusuke into his arms. "I can't stand that."

Syusuke shook in his embrace, gripping his shirt tightly, his tears soaking the fabric. "Seiichi, I am so afraid."

Yukimura raised a hand to caress the back of Syusuke's head. "Shhh. It's alright. There is nothing to be afraid of."

"No, there _is_," Syusuke insisted, his grip tightening. "I'm so afraid that one day, I will wake up, and you will be lost to me, and... and..."

Yukimura tightened his hug. "I won't go anywhere. You know that. What we did that night, do you remember? I won't be going anywhere."

Syusuke was shaking his head. "You will. You _will_," he whispered steadily, finally looking up, watching Yukimura with blue eyes that were so full of _grief_. "You already are and... Seiichi, I don't want...

"I do not want you to become a monster."

Yukimura's grip faltered, and he drew in several breaths before he was even able to gently pat Syusuke again. Even then, his other free hand was closed in a shaking fist, and he smiled. It wasn't a happy smile, it wasn't _anything_ at all. It was merely a smile. He traced the outline of Syusuke's face, beautiful, even in grief.

"_I do not want you to become a monster."_

Well, was that not ironic?

His finger trailed down, to where his ring hung from the silver chain that had once belonged to Syusuke's brother. He touched it deftly, taking it and lifting it so Syusuke could see it.

"I haven't taken this away from you, have I?" he asked softly, fingering the white gold band that had once belonged to his dear departed father, and was now meant to be worn on his finger. A family heirloom, passed down from one generation to the next, king to king, ruler to ruler. Yukimura could not count how many years he had spent watching it, wondering when he was ever going to grow up enough that the ring, and the burden it carried with it, would fit in his altogether too small fingers.

It meant next to nothing to him now. If it was not around Syusuke's neck, he would have had thrown it away. "I remember, Syusuke."

Syusuke's eyes were transfixed on his, and Yukimura felt a little smugness at that. A long time ago, there were very many undeserving people who Syusuke looked at like that, who Syusuke gave his love to.

But that was a long time ago.

Yukimura fought back a smile. "So you know for sure," he whispered against Syusuke's ear, giving on up on the fight, and letting the smile come. "That I love you."

Syusuke's grip on his shirt only tightened. "Do you?" his voice was ragged, and his eyes called out to Yukimura, the emotions surfacing so clearly, he did not even have to tell Yukimura how he felt. "I do not know. Because sometimes, I think that you say you love me only because you love your s-"

Yukimura did not even let him finish before he pulled him into a kiss. As if Yukimura gave a damn about that. It could disappear, for all he cared, he did not need it, anyway. These past few years have proven exactly just _how much_ he did not need it, how much it had been hindering him all along.

His grip on Syusuke's head lessened, only to have him pull away.

His brows knit together in confusion. "Syusuke?"

"I..." Syusuke was looking away, biting his lip. "I can't. Not... not right now."

"I do not understand." Yukimura must have heard wrong. There was no other explanation.

"Please, Seiichi, do not ask this of me today." Syusuke shook his head. "I cannot do it."

"Shall I..." His heart pounded against his chest, and he felt something _heavy_, he did not know what, settle in his stomach.

"Shall I _leave_?"

And, as he had never done before, Syusuke nodded slowly. "Please. I... I need to be alone."

Yukimura was barely able to keep his body from trembling. He bent to down kiss Syusuke's forehead, and walked himself leadenly out the room, shutting the door behind him.

Perhaps it was just as well. Had he stayed inside that room any minute longer, Syusuke would have noticed that his body was shaking with poorly-suppressed rage.

* * *

Not for the first time that day, Tezuka stared down at the many documents in his hand, and found himself unable to read them.

He was supposed to be reviewing logistics with Oishi, who was on the other side of his desk, perusing through the documents there, but he allowed himself the luxury of walking to the window, and looking up to the skies whose color reminded him of another's eyes. They had been very beautiful, and just as tranquil and serene.

"Tezuka?" Oishi called, and Tezuka let himself spare a few more seconds thinking, before he turned around and sat back down.

"Are you okay?" his friend questioned and Tezuka just nodded his head.

Oishi looked doubtful for a moment, before he gestured to the paper he was holding again. "Here's news from Kaidoh from the battalions of Yamabuki."

He let his mind focus back on his work.

Oishi was talking again. "...And if they could just hold the line right there, and stop it from falling back..."

"_And then, you'd have to make the army line fall back here."_

_Tezuka watched as his friend pushed the center apples in the neatly arranged line of apples back. It was just after noon, and they were in the small meadow very near the border between the Yukimura Kingdom and the kingdom that Tezuka had been visiting with his parents. The apples were abundant here, and his companion had insisted on showing Tezuka something with a few apples that they had picked._

_The honey-haired boy smiled up eagerly at him, waiting for his reaction._

_Tezuka was confused. "Fall back? But, Fuji, does that not mean you are losing?"_

_Fuji blinked up at him, before he shook his head and laughed. He had a nice laugh, it had the sound of shimmering bells, clear and lilting in the quiet of the meadow. _

"_Not all the time. See, you let the vanguard fall back, so both flanks could encircle the pursuing army and trap them," Fuji explained, moving around a few more apples._

_Tezuka looked at the crude battle diagram that Fuji had created with the apples. "Oh. That is..."_

"_Neat, is it not?" Fuji finished for him, happily swiping one apple, and polishing it against his coat. His eyes opened and they were sparkling with delight. They looked like pretty gems, now more than ever, and Tezuka found himself smiling, too. But only a little. "Mother has taught me about it."_

_That made Tezuka look up to assess his friends face. "You are being trained now, as well?"_

_A frown creased Fuji's face, and Tezuka almost wished he had not asked the question. Fuji looked more beautiful when he smiled. _

"_Well, not like Tezuka-kun," Fuji replied, tilting his head to the side adoringly. "Mother does not even let me near the lists."_

"_Why not?" Tezuka asked, geniunely confused. Fuji was about the age where he should start training, else it would be too late to start, and he would have a harder time coping._

"_She says I am too sickly for it."_

"_You are not," Tezuka argued but his friend only shrugged, taking a bite of the apple he was holding._

"_She says I am. Father was angry at her for it, but only for a while," Fuji chewed his apple thoughtfully, his blue eyes strangely far away. "He always lets her do what she wants."_

"_He does?" Tezuka asked, the concept foreign to him. In their kingdom, though women were valued and respected, in the end they always yielded, either to their fathers or their husbands. His own mother was quiet and respectful, even to his grandfather who had long since ceded the throne to his father._

_Fuji looked at him strangely, peering through lush, and long eyelashes. He looked like he was contemplating something, but whatever it had been, he shook his head, smiled, and answered, "Yes. Father says that Mother has always been stubborn, and that I have inherited even that from her."_

"_That is a good assessment."_

_Fuji laughed again, his eyes bright with mirth. "I think Tezuka-kun has just made a joke!" he cried, holding his stomach with one hand, and patting Tezuka with another. _

_Tezuka frowned, and turned his face away so he could hide the reddening of his cheeks. "I shall treat that comment with the contempt it rightfully deserves."_

"_Don't be mean," Fuji chastised, wiping his eyes._

"_I do not jest," he enunciated clearly, because it was true, he didn't._

_Fuji watched him sharply, with calculating eyes that Tezuka knew would be useful to him in the future. He would make a brilliant strategist, and Fuji's mother must have seen that potential for her to start teaching him this young. "Okay, if that's what you like," he said, smiling once again. "At any rate, Mother teaches me things all the time now. She says I'm smart enough for it."_

"_Of course you are," Tezuka agreed, in complete confidence of his friend. Though... "Would she approve of you telling it to me?"_

_They were of opposing kingdoms, after all. Tezuka was going to be the king someday, and though Fuji was only the son of a duke, his family and his House had the strongest ties with the kingdom's royal family. Fuji should not be showing him battle strategies._

_But Fuji just grinned, his eyes full of little boy mischief as he tossed Tezuka an apple. "Actually, Mother says I'm not to see you anymore."_

_That hit Tezuka almost as bad as the last time he had training and his sparring partner had gutted him good and hard on his stomach. He couldn't see Fuji anymore? They weren't doing anything wrong, Fuji was only his friend. It was not as if he was spying on their kingdom, he spent time with Fuji because he liked it, not because his parents want information so they could invade._

_He tore his eyes away from his apple, only to have Fuji laugh at him. Again. It was getting on to be a habit, and Tezuka wondered how he had become so humorous._

_His friend leaned forward, putting a finger to his lips, his eyes still sparkling. The afternoon sunlight wrapped around his head like a halo, making him look even more radiant than he was. _

"_But what she does not know won't hurt her, ne?" Fuji said impishly, throwing Tezuka a playful wink that had Tezuka laughing along with him._

"Tezuka?"

Tezuka snapped out of his thoughts, realizing he had drifted away from what he should have been doing. Again. He sagged against his chair, trying to fight off a sigh.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Oishi asked worriedly, looking at Tezuka apprehensively.

Tezuka did not answer, really sighing this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been long since he had those kind of recollections, and now was not really the best time for it. But considering today, perhaps he should have expected it.

"Would you like to be alone for a moment?"

And when Tezuka looked at his friend, he was wearing a smile full of understanding. Oishi did not ask, but he knew something was troubling Tezuka, something that Tezuka looked like he did not want to share. So he offered the only thing he could offer Tezuka right now, and from the looks of it, Tezuka needed it.

Before Tezuka could answer, Oishi nodded once. "I shall excuse myself then." And he left, and Tezuka was alone.

Tezuka sighed again. He might owe Oishi an apology this time. It was not anyone's fault but his own, he knew, but he was more than just a little possessive of his memories of Fuji. Talking about them, even _thinking_ about them hurt, and he was not ready to share.

They had been friends for only a little while, but Fuji had left an impact bigger than anything in Tezuka's life.

And then, he had died.

On this very same day, many years ago.

Tezuka picked up his sword from where it was leaning against his desk. The silver chain loped around the hilt caught the morning sunlight and glimmered. It was the only accessory Tezuka had ever allowed on his person. It was meant to be a necklace, and he still remembered how it looked around his friend's neck.

When they met last, Fuji had taken it off, and pressed it against Tezuka's palm. _"You _will_ keep this for me, won't you?"_

Tezuka remembered. He remembered every detail, down to the last, smallest flower that Fuji had strung around his hair that day. He remembered how Fuji smiled, blue eyes that could have been the sky or the sea or both exactly at once.

"_This way, you won't forget about me. And then every time I think about it, I remember what it is that is really important."_

They had been twelve. And Tezuka had thought he was, for the first time, experiencing what it was like to love another, apart from his own family. The thought had always been bittersweet since Fuji's death.

Tezuka never did find out what was it that truly mattered, that was really important. He had not thought to ask. And now he never would, because the only one who could tell him was not around to ask any longer.

When his friend died, Tezuka had loped the chain around the hilt of his sword, to remind him of what he had lost because he had not been strong enough.

Sometimes, when he looked at it, he would see Fuji's face, bright and radiant with laughter and dreams, and he would think what it would have been like, if he had been strong enough to save him.

Perhaps, Tezuka thought with a bitter smile, they would have fallen in love.

* * *

When Sanada had gotten to Yukimura's study, it had, once again, ended up in chaos.

By the table where the map was laid out, Yukimura was fuming. His hands were gripping the edge of the table fiercely, and he was trembling with rage, breathing in and out quickly in an effort to calm himself.

"Yukimura," Sanada called, closing the door behind him.

"He is upset with me," Yukimura bit out angrily, his voice cold. He did not turn around, or move from his position at all, and Sanada suspected it was because he was trying to keep himself in control, else he'd end up truly destroying his study.

Sanada did not even ask who _he_ was.

But even if he did not, Yukimura was quick to add, "Syusuke is upset with me."

"Perhaps you should not have done what you did to his attendant," Sanada offered, approaching his emperor's trembling form cautiously.

Today, Yukimura was wearing a flattering coat the color of his hair. The sun's rays drifted into the room from the huge windows, where the curtains had been torn off their rods, and his eyes, though full of rage, caught the light so they looked almost iridescent.

"It should not have mattered!" Yukimura cried, whirling around to face Sanada, so Sanada could see the dagger lying on the table, and the blood dripping down from his palm. Sanada had been around Yukimura during times like these often enough that he did not make a move to try to fix the injury, even though his heart had dropped to his stomach.

He assessed Yukimura's whole body, relieved to find no other injuries.

"Some _servant_ should not have meant more to him than me!" Yukimura reached out to take the nearest thing near him, the ink bottle, and threw it across the room, where it smashed against the wall, dripping black ink on the wallpaper.

"I _can't_ have him upset with me!"

"You are being hasty," he said, making his way towards the table, to pick up the bloodied dagger before Yukimura could use it to hurt himself again. "He is sensitive today, and I need not remind you why."

"They were only his family," Yukimura sniffed. "He has mourned them every year, but today, he pushed me away. He has _never_ done that."

"You had gone against his wishes yesterday," Sanada reminded him.

"It does not matter!" Yukimura's frustration was beginning to show, and he turned back to bang his fists on the table, and it made a sound of protest in response. "It will hurt him, it was hurting him, and it is hurting me. He knows his decision will hurt both of us, but he _asked for me to leave_."

"Give him time."

"I will not risk his death because he is too obstinate to give in."

"He knows his limits. Trust that he will do what is right."

"I do not like it," Yukimura declared, forcefully taking the dagger from his hands once again and gripping it with so much force, his hand shook. "I _do not_ like it."

He pointed the tip of the blade towards the crude red of the kingdoms of the alliance. "This is his fault."

"Yukimura, I don't think-"

"No, Syusuke has never pushed me away before today. The only thing I can see that is different, is that this year, he was made consciously aware, once again, of _him_." Yukimura's features contorted with hate. The expression did not suit him, but Sanada could not do anything to smooth it out.

Sanada said nothing. What could he say? The only thing he would succeed in doing is encourage Yukimura, and that was never a good idea. He was having a hard time keeping himself in control as it is.

"I have always hated him. Even when we were children, he was always getting in my way, ruining my plans, _taking my things_."

Yukimura turned to face Sanada, and though rage and hate still dominated his face, there was something in them that made Sanada think that he was pleading with him, asking Sanada to understand.

"It is _his_ fault that Syusuke's family has perished," Yukimura continued. "It is _his_ fault."

Sanada knew Yukimura well enough. He could hear it, the _'not mine'_ so loudly and clearly, Yukimura might as well have spoken it.

"Yukimura-"

"No, you do not understand," Yukimura was shaking his head. "He tried to take Syusuke away from me. If he did not, then I would not have done what I did and Syusuke would not have been lost to me today."

There were tears, clear crystal droplets tracing their way down Yukimura's face. _Tears_. For as long as Sanada had known him, Yukimura had never cried.

But there he was, crying and pleading with eyes that could have deceived anyone of Yukimura's true nature. He was beautiful. He was so beautiful.

Sanada's heart ached.

"Sanada, I've already lost Syusuke _once_." The grief in that one sentence was all-consuming and utterly heartbreaking. Yukimura spread his arms out, as if trying to tell Sanada, _And look at where that got me_.

Sanada wanted to embrace him. All the rules Sanada had clung to would have been broken, but at that moment, Sanada realized that he did not care. Yukimura was there, beautiful and pleading and _crying_.

Sanada had always thought how unreasonable it was that Yukimura had lost the ability to.

But then the pleading look was gone, and Yukimura was raising his dagger, his hand still trembling. The next time he spoke, his voice was hard, full of the fury he always seemed to contain these days.

"I've already lost Syusuke once, and now _he _is taking Syusuke away. Even when he is far away, he _takes_ Syusuke away from me."

The dagger sliced through the air, and embedded itself in the center of the Tezuka Kingdom. Yukimura's blood trickled down the hilt to drip on the table, but it was the dried blood around the dagger that made it look eerie, like a pool of fresh black blood, stemming from where the dagger had stuck in the table.

Yukimura's face was cold, expressionless, but there was something behind that blank mask, a darkness that scared even Sanada, who loved Yukimura and had gained his trust enough so that he knew what Yukimura and Fuji had chosen to do, and how it had changed them both.

"I'll see him dead, just for that."

* * *

Dundundun~ :) -always wanted to do that- Don't worry to make up for it, the next chapter will see some Marui vs. Yamabuki plus Kaido action. When I get around to writing it. Yes. Right now, I'm trying to get somewhere with ASiT (if any of you guys are reading that) but Yuki-chan likes to be difficult. I'm probably a third or a fourth through, so I'll be updating that next... sometime... :)

So, questions, comments, reactions... Drop by and tell me what you think? :)

/silverglitters


End file.
